Ungrateful
by Miss Haps
Summary: When I was younger, my mother would always point out that I, Gabriella Montez, was "ungrateful" in some way. But "ungrateful" wasn't the case after I met a striking blue-eyed certain someone... ONESHOT


**AN: Hola! I was bored, since Sammy's still in Mexico and I had the need to write something...so, uh, I wrote this! With the inspiration from a really enjoyable book that I read a few days ago that I already forgot the title of! HOORAY FOR ME!! Anyways, I hope those of you who felt like clicking on this, and reading it, obviously like it! Because I know I did! And, I know it's kind of pointless and, uh, drabble-y...I guess. But it was fun to write! -So! In dedication to that book, who's title has been forgotten already by yours truly, that helped me over come my problem with the craving I had to write something all week, here is my very first oneshot...**

**Disclaimer: I own absolutely, positively...nothing. Some ideas were actually based on what happened in the book, however the ending was soooo my own idea, and I'd also like to point out that SAMMY HAD NO SAY IN THIS!! YIPPEE! **

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You know, when I was younger, my mother would always point out that I was "ungrateful" in some way. But it was mainly little things, like whenever I refused to eat my Brussels sprouts; I still do actually...that's exactly the point why I never make them. She would always go on about, "You should be thankful that you actually have something to eat," or, "You know, someone living in a poor third world country would be delighted if they had those sprouts," and sometimes, "Gabriella! You cannot waste food! Think about the landfills!!"

But at that time, when I was eight years old, my father had just died from diabetes. And unfortunately, mom was never really one of those "stay-at-home-moms," that was kind of dad's role in the family. Mom was basically a work-a-holic...I guess. Being a doctor _and_ part time college professor, but how she managed to do that, let alone _still_ juggles the work when I'm nineteen now...I have no clue. But at _that_ time, she was pretty much spiraling.

That left me, to watch over my younger brother, Jeffrey, for a few months until my mom got a grip of reality again. That, and because my older brother, Greg, who was eleven at the time, was too much of a lazy butt to do it himself.

So every morning, while Greg sleeps in for a few more minutes because he's just way too irresponsible to be given the job to make Jeffrey, who was three, his Cheerios, I would force myself out of bed, mope to the kitchen, wave my mother good-bye, give Jeff his Godforsaken cereal, then watch him as he sat on his plastic training potty in front of the living room's tv. While I ate my own breakfast, and tried with all the will in my big BIG heart not to spit in Greg's food, I would listen to Jeff sing "Fruit salad, yummy yummy! Fruit salad, yummy yummy!" over and over again in front of the tv, until he would get sick of it, and dump the rest of his unfinished breakfast _into_ his potty. Cause that was every sister's dream job, to scrape both cereal, milk stains, _and _other unmentionables off the hollow plastic chair. So...when my mother mentioned how "ungrateful" I was for having such a sweet younger brother, I was practically twitching inside not to just spit that all into her face.

Or maybe that time when I really, REALLY needed some money. So what do I do? I get a summer job…duh.

Anyways, our neighbor's, Mr. and Mrs. No-We-Will-Never-Tell-You-Our-First-Names Jefferson offered me the job to take care of their dog, Bubba, while they were on this two week vacation. So I was all like, "Psh! I can soooo do that! I mean if I can take care of Jeff I can take care of some dog named 'Bubba'!"

So I got the job, yippee! And for eight bucks a day too! But during the first week, whenever I took Bubba out for a walk to do his…business, it kind of seemed that he was a tad bit shy of doing it in front of strangers. But I can't really blame the poor pup, I wouldn't either. Plus, I'm a girl.

Therefore, whenever I would take out Bubba for some exercise, he never bothered to stand behind some tree and lift his leg. However, it never really seemed like it bothered him, since right when we got back to the house, he happily made his way back to his little green cushion in the corner of the kitchen. And after he fell asleep, I went home, prepared to do it all over again tomorrow. But when I came back the next day, the living room was completely trashed. The damn dog used the entire couch as a toilet and it seemed that he also used the curtains for toilet paper.

Grumpily cleaning up the mess, I took him out for another walk later that day, hoping he would get around to the idea that going outside from now on was going to help the smell fade away in the house. Unfortunately, Mr. Big Shot felt that he was too good to poop in front of me still, so I left him back at the Jeffersons' place. And guess what!? I came back to a trashed house _again_. And that routine pretty much happened for the rest of the first week.

The next week, I didn't even bother to take Bubba out so he could go potty or something. I comfortably kept my scrawny butt glued to Mr. Jefferson's comfy recliner, channel surfing on their 49" plasma screen tv. Plus, I figured that there would be absolutely no point in having to waste all those cleaning supplies when Bubba would just make a mess the next day. So that Friday, the day before the Jeffersons were scheduled to come back, I grabbed as much toilet paper and _Febreze_ my mom had on her and skipped merrily over next door. That was when lightning pretty much struck upon me. I found Mr. And Mrs. What's-their-face Jefferson already standing in the middle of the living room while Bubba was taking another piss behind the sofa.

So I didn't get a single penny out of that summer job, and you could just guess why our neighbors moved after that summer.

There had also been that time when I had turned eleven. It had been the beginning of seventh grade, and on that specific day, the entire class had to be tested so that the school knew what grade level you were supposed to be in, the "gifted" group, as some put it, or the "Calling-these-brats-stupid-would-be-bragging" group. I had been in the gifted group last year. My mother would always explain how I have so much potential and blah blah blah, and I was soooo smart for my age, but this year, I wanted to make sure I was placed in the lower level. Mainly because I hated having mountains more work than the other kids last year.

So, acting, probably too hard, dumb, the teacher had ordered me to read a chapter of some book aloud and summarize it in my own words. I, being the prepared person I was, shrugged coolly, opening to the correct page before Mrs. Smith announced, "Gabriella, you may begin."

"On a dark, stormy...n-...ni..nig-hit? Nige-hitt?"

"It's night dear...it's a word you were probably taught in third grade."

And while that went on until I finally finished the chapter...an hour or so later, I was completely set for having my easy way out, because hey, I'm lazy. But unfortunately, my mother, being the "oh so important and well know" person _she_ is and probably also being tight with the principle's wife and everything, she pulled some strings and got me into the higher group. Oh goody…I pretty much made an idiot out of myself for absolutely nothing…

But it wasn't _that_ bad in the beginning. Besides, learning from my older brother, you should always show the worst of yourself, so that people have low expectations towards you, but then blow them all away with how all mighty and awesome you are!...Even if that's kind of the definition of hustling people...but blame Greg for being such a terrible role model.

Sadly, by amazing my teachers, I was officially dubbed "Geek" all throughout both middle school and high school. So yeah, grateful wasn't really something that I happened to be at that time, especially with all the lame taunts and names. Not that they made me cry or anything, they weren't very original with their "bullying" if that's the way you want to put it, it was more like names a five year old could've probably come up with...but they did get annoying after they started to pull my hair, thinking it was a wig because it was so curly.

But I did get something good out of seventh grade, it was the year I met Chad Danforth. He was actually the first person to ever stand up for me, though I didn't really think I needed it, nor did I like the fact that he said I looked kind of like an "ear wax cleaner, just with more cotton at the end." But really, so what if I was technically skin and bones when I was that age? And so what if my curly hair didn't really compliment that fact either?...He really shouldn't have been talking though, he had his own "fro" as he likes to call his hair do.

But after that, Chad and I instantly clicked, being best friends ever since. Though we were complete opposites, him being the captain of the basketball team and I being...uh, me I guess, I couldn't have wished for a better best friend. And speaking of the idiot I love, he had actually called me at two in the morning last night to tell me that he was coming home to Albuquerque for the entire summer...a fact I had known since November of last year.

He had also mentioned that one of his old pen pals was going to tag along after meeting him at UCLA last year. Then, after a few snide comments of "Wow, I had no idea that you actually knew how to write a letter Chad," and a few "Oh shut up Gabs!" we both hung up and I dropped back dead on my bed.

But now, as I waited impatiently, in one of the hard chairs that belonged to the local airport, for Chad and his friend, I couldn't help myself from having my lips curl upwards just by seeing my best friend walk out from a large group of people surrounding one of the entrances. "Gabi!" I could hear him yell all the way across the room.

My smile grew bigger, I had no idea how much I actually missed Chad. The last time I saw him was probably Christmas, which was ages ago. Then again, what do you really expect when your best friend gets a scholarship to UCLA while I'm perfectly fine with going to the University of Albuquerque with my other friend, Taylor.

Mindlessly staring off into space, I was caught off guard after someone severely poked me in my ribs. Squealing uncontrollably, I turned around, facing, what seemed to be, an older version of Chad, since the last time I saw him, leaning against the pile of luggage beside him and smirking, before he finally spread his arms and engulfed me into a forced hug crying, "Ella Bo Bella! I haven't seen you in ages!!"

"Eeeep!" I squirmed in the tight hug while he kept grinning like mad.

Once I was released, I over dramatically gasped for air and giggled as Chad rolled his eyes. "You know Chad, you really shouldn't be hugging people you still have the 'Harold Touch' remember?"

"Ok! For like gazillionth-thousand and twenty three... or something-time! It was eighth grade, and I was being brave!!"

I began to burst into laughter, while holding my sides to prevent my lungs from giving out, when a sudden deep voice interrupted my fit. "What's the _Harold Touch_?"

My giggles faded, and I grew limp after opening my eyes and seeing _the_ most gorgeous creature I've ever laid my eyes on. The sunlight beaming through the glass windows of the airport seemed to hug his body, giving that effect like one of those big-top super heroes on tv, and I could swear a chorus of angels started to sing after the sound of his lush voice…that, or I was dreaming everything or being way too melodramatic.

"Erm….uh…he…um…with the…and…Har-" I babbled unconsciously.

Chad gave me a smug look, before rolling his eyes towards the amazingly H-O-T guy standing next to him. "What took you so long Troy?"

Ah…Troy…the name of a- never mind…I really shouldn't think like that. _Bad Gabriella! Bad Gabriella Bad-_

"Gabs?"

"Huh! Wha- oh, yeah?"

"Nothing, you just kind of looked retarded with your mouth hanging open like that…"

_Thanks Chad…thanks._

"Anyways, what were you saying Troy?

"Oh! Yeah! I _would've_ gotten here faster if _someone_ didn't race off somewhere, leaving me to get our stuff from the plane!"

"I got the stuff from that weird carousel thingy that gets bags from somewhere! Didn't I?!...tell me again why they don't let people ride on those?"

Troy sighed heavily, "Maybe because you'd look like some retard and people would never get their bags?"

"Dude! You would so have done it too!" Chad retorted, "I'm not the only one who thinks it looks pretty damn fun!"

"Well, _maybe_-"

"Well, maybe nothing man! It was-"

I cleared my throat loudly, making it turn into some sort of cackle-like coughing noise instead, but it caught both boys' attention.

"Elle, you want a cough drop? I think they sell those in one of the stores here…" Chad began to ramble.

"Oh just shut up Chad," I snapped playfully, "Hi, I'm Gabriella." I greeted warmly, sticking out my right hand in front of Troy to shake.

He gladly took it, moving it up and down. I stared intently into his dazzling blue eyes to prevent myself from fainting. His hands were large and soft, and I might have been dreaming, but mine fit inside of his, like a baseball to its glove, loving the firm grip he had on me.

We stood there, shaking each other's hand for a few minutes, smiling like one of those creepy looking old dolls. That is, until Chad, of course, ruined it, "Guys! Stop looking at each other with all those 'googley eyes' it's starting to get really icky! And I'm hungry! When can we go home!?" he whined.

Reluctantly, I stopped shaking Troy's hand and slightly blushed, realizing we've been standing there for about an hour after the plane had already arrived. "Whatever Chad…let's just go home…"

Gathering the rest of their luggage, we headed out towards the airport's exit, and made out way to my car, while Troy and I shared a few stolen smiles on our way there. But when we were finally prepared to head home, and after I got Chad to sit in the back seat, while he still continues to complain about it, I smiled dreamily at the windshield before I started the car, listening to the hum of its engine, and driving off towards Chad's house. And only one thing was on my mind: ungrateful wasn't the case when I realized mine and Troy's hands were still intertwined.

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**AN: Aint that just the cutest little thing?...yeah, sure. Why not? But thanks for reading! Feed back and reviews make everyone happy! You, me, what the heck even SAMMY! But seriously...review. I mean, isn't that cute little button that says 'go' just soooo super tempting? MAKE MY DAY IF I MADE YOURS BY READING THIS! LIKE...NOW!**

**-ImmaHatefulCritic**


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